By The Amper River
by TotoroBird
Summary: It would have been so simple, so simple to just run and run and run, run like Jesse Owens, far, far away before anyone could find him. But an unknowing obstacle in the form of Liesel Meminger stopped him: he could not - would not - leave her. And he found himself simultaneously cursing and loving her for that small fact.


A/N: Rudy is alive. Also, they didn't kiss on Himmel Street. That's really all you need to know. Enjoy!

I do not own the Book Thief (I know, terrible, isn't it?). All characters are Markus Zuzak's.

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***On The Bank Of The Amper River***

**The Book Thief looked for her missing friend.**

'Rudy?' Liesel called, stepping through the teeming, spring undergrowth and roaming the trees with her inquisitive gaze. The boy was nowhere in sight, an occurrence that wouldn't have normally concerned her so much, but under the circumstances, it was slightly alarming. Her eyes searched for the telltale yellow head of hair that she could distinguish a mile away.

Above her, stolen sunlight from behind ashen clouds filtered through treetops, illuminating her almost-German hair, still filthy with dust that she hadn't been able to brush out; it followed her everywhere, heavy and smoky and suffocating, the bitter, fragile scent of grief. Everything she did was lined with the thick, grey stuff. The river was blindingly bright, the leaves on the trees were a pale green. It would have been an adequate day to go apple thieving. But unfortunately - as life usually is when I'm around - this was no time for childish games (or as it were, petty crimes).

Liesel was still dressed in her mourning clothes: a navy blue, formal dress - the closest thing she had to dark clothing - and neat, black shoes, now stained with mud. Her hair was parted into two severe plaits that were unravelling by the minute. Her eyes were red and glassy, like the surface of the river.

The funeral had ended an hour ago. They had said a final goodbye to their loved ones lost in the bombing of Heaven Street. She had wept over her Papa: the man with accordion lungs and a heart full of words and cigarette smoke; she had wept over her Mama, beautiful, beautiful Mama. Once the grey man with the grey voice closed his Bible and stopped talking, it came to Liesel's attention that Rudy was no longer present. Her fingers itched for the leather bound book with shimmering gold pages that rested on the alter, where the grey man left it: she could have simply reached out, disguised it in the folds of her skirt. But her fidgeting fingers received no reward for their curiosity; Rudy was the priority.

Now she was here, where so many kisses were lost and forgotten about by all but him, where the icy river had nearly devoured The Whistler. All those memories had all gone, blasted apart like Heaven.

'Rudy?' she yelled, looking round agitatedly. 'Where are you, saukerl?'

***Something Liesel Didn't Know***

**He watched her search for him.**

**In this time of devastation and loss, **

**It gave him selfish pleasure**

**To watch her try and find him.**

Rudy sat in a tree a few yards away and watched as she stumbled through the woods, smiling a little in spite of himself. To another, she was simply a girl: a child who had seen too much in her short life and one to be looked upon with that mindless sympathy only adults could achieve. A girl who was little small for her age, with large, knowing eyes that could cut through stone. To him, she was perfection, pure and sweet and truly, utterly wonderful.

He too was in his mourning clothes. In an ironic and slightly sickening twist of fate, they were too big for him, due to a mix of malnourishment and the fact they were his older brother, Kurt's. They felt both comforting and alien, being a window into the life he once lived while giving off an acute sense of non-belonging that could only come from wearing someone else's clothes. Still, it had been unpleasant to say the least to pay respects to his family dressed as his deceased brother. He could still smell the familiar scent of sweat and aftershave off his brother's jacket.

His shoes were discarded somewhere, having been kicked off by frantic feet in a hurried attempt to escape all this scheiße. It would have been so simple, so simple to just run and run and run, run like Jesse Owens, far, far away before anyone could find him. But an unknowing obstacle in the form of Liesel Meminger stopped him: he could not - would not - leave her. And he found himself simultaneously cursing and loving her for that small fact.

'Rudy?' He could hear her calling. Her voice sounded flat, defeated, weary. He wanted to call back to her, but his lungs were exhausted and full of dust. She was so close, only a few metres away. He could see her turning away, and heading back up the slope. Suddenly, she stopped, seemingly examining something, then straightened up.

'Next time you plan on hiding from me, try not to leave your shoes just lying about.' Liesel turned, holding the shiny, black shoes that were now caked with a mixture of earth and leaves.

'Thought you'd given up on me, saumensch,' he grinned, in spite of himself. 'You look terrible.'

She looked down at her dress, now ripped in places and splattered with dirt. 'Goddamn it.'

He looked down at her, regarding her with regal authority as if she were a peasant (not that he was in any position to talk). 'What brings you to my tree?' he said in mock disdain.

Her eyebrows shot up, her expression incredulous. 'Not even you are that stupid. The question is, what brings you to this tree?'

Rudy looked down at his bare feet and mumbled, 'You know.'

Liesel's gaze softened. She sighed and held out her hand. 'Come down, saukerl.'

He gazed down at her, so damaged and broken and yet flawless in his eyes, stronger than any Hitler Youth he had ever met. Her eyes, though forever wary and questioning, were wide and trusting and nothing short of beautiful. In a daze of accepted surrender, he slid off the branch, landing on two feet in front of her. She smiled and took his hand, leading him to the water's edge. They stood side by side, staring out what the world had become before them.

***Something Humans Can Never Fully Understand***

**Only I have the power to place things in full perspective.**

**One day, dear reader, you will realise this.**

What was once an escape for two children who ran from apple thievery, Herr Hitler and Isla Hermann's library was now a place of sombre reflection for two teenagers, caught up in a storm of bombs and silent heartbeats and dead accordions. I have seen buildings destroyed by a word from a suit's lips and homes built up from nothing but the elements, but it can still surprise me how a place can change in a few short days depending on circumstance. Nowhere on this planet could have changed more in such a small amount of time without actually changing.

They knew this. Maybe it was the significance of the change that kept them their much-needed words confined behind their teeth; the realisation that everything they loved was dead and gone. Maybe it was the suffocating defeat in accepting the fact that they were stuck with this reality that silenced them. What did any of it matter now? They knew this. And they were silent.

'Why did they die, Liesel?' Rudy spoke up finally. His voice was so childlike, fragile like a paper house - liable to crumble at any stray gust of wind. It was imploring, begging for an answer that no one would ever be able to give, edged with a foolish hope that the solution would ease the pain. Never had it been so apparent to Liesel that Rudy was not ready to be a man, a term that had been thrust clumsily upon him by Germany itself and the loss of his family. He was just a boy: alone and afraid in an empty world. Oh Rudy.

'Why are you asking me, dummkopf?' she said, nudging him gently with her elbow. He sighed and unconsciously squeezed her hand. 'I don't know, Rudy. I don't know why they died.'

'I'm not ready for this,' he whispered. It was hard to tell who he was addressing at this point: his exquisite German eyes were glazed over and contorted with hurt. For all Liesel knew, he was confessing his sadness to an uncaring world in hopes that it might just deal him another card, give him another try and not take his family from him. Unfortunately, life just isn't that kind. Take it from me.

'I know, Rudy, I know,' was all she replied with.

'It's Hitler, isn't it?' The tone of his voice had changed. It was deadly and brown like a wasp sting. 'It's always him.' His free hand had clenched into a fist and his expression had grown dark.

Liesel was unsure how to respond. Finally, she said, 'Yes. It was him.'

'I would have killed him. I would have killed him and none of it would have happened,' he whispered savagely, as tears spilled out his acidic blue eyes. He was trembling, the rage knife sharp.

'I will kill him,' he corrected himself. Liesel said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

***For The First Time In Her Life***

**The Book Thief was afraid of him.**

***Another Small Notable Fact***

**She would deny this till the day she died.**

Though Liesel would argue otherwise, there was some valid reasoning to being a little wary of this new behaviour of his. He was bigger than her - not by much but still enough - and had an exceptional talent for mistaking his stupidity for logic. If he did decide to take out his unearthly anger on murdering the Fuhrer, there would be nothing she could possibly do about it. But Liesel was never one to stay out of something.

'Rudy?' she said slowly. He said nothing, either having not heard or deliberately ignoring her. 'Rudy, I know you're upset, but this is stupid.' There was a moment in which she thought he was going to fly into a rage at her words, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He slumped down dejectedly to the ground so he was somewhat level with the water, his fingers unconsciously tracing the face of his mother onto the surface.

'I know, Liesel,' he sighed. His voice was uneven, and she knew he was crying. 'I know it's stupid. But what else do I have? What else do we have? Everyone we know is dead.'

Liesel bit down on her bottom lip to keep in the tears, drawing beads of salty blood out of the tender flesh. It caused her pain but it kept her mind off the far deeper psychological trauma that battled savagely for dominance. But here was Rudy, the teddy bear giver with lemon hair, in a terrible state - unaccustomed to the damaging effects of death - and desperately needing her comfort that she could not give. In the end, she did the only thing she could think of.

Crouching down beside him, Liesel placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Hey Rudy,' she whispered, 'How about a kiss, saukerl?'

His head perked up, his eyes widened in surprise as if unsure whether what she said was sincere, wonderful truth or a trick played on his mind. He turned to look at her in disbelief. 'What did you say?'

There was a small, delicious grin tugging and eating at her lips and she struggled to conceal it; obviously, it was a failed attempt. 'You heard me, dummkopf. How about a kiss?'

Again, he looked at her as if she would pull her words off the table before he could take a good look. Sighing impatiently, she leaned forward and placed a small, chaste kiss on his forehead. Finally, his senses - and wit - came flooding back like a hurricane, set in motion by her unacceptably tiny gift of intimacy. His usual confident smirk returned, a face she had missed so sorely in her grief, though she would never admit to this in a million years.

'You missed. My lips are here,' he remarked, barely hiding a grin.

***In This Moment***

**This time of corruption, and fascism, and lost youth,**

**The boy got his wish.**

His grin was swiftly crushed by her mouth, her wonderful, wonderful dust-laden, bomb-bruised lips. Victory came to Rudy Steiner in a tangled mess of teeth and smiles and silent, joyful cries of love that had hidden beneath in their poisoned throats for months, years, forever, for time was currently lost on Liesel Meminger as the boy with lemon hair finally kissed her.

He tasted of sweets, and bitter tears, and stolen apples, and completely and utterly Rudy. She tasted of thievery, and loss, and thousands upon thousands of glorious words, golden and delicious. He could savour every syllable, every letter in them as he kissed them off her lips. They rested on his tongue, became his, never to be forgotten as long as he lived.

She began to pull away, but Rudy's fingers crept up to her neck and held her there, in a silent plea for her to stay. She did, gladly, as her hands tangled in his yellow hair. She felt the damp ground come up to meet her as she fell back, pulling him with her.

They clung to each other with a vengeance. Having learnt the value of pain in a shower of ash and rubble, it was understandable their reluctance to let go: it was obvious in the way Rudy grasped her face in both hands, held her locked to him, as if some powerful force beyond nature wanted to steal her away from him, like it did his family; in the way Liesel's thin arms wrapped around his neck and refused to loosen in case he disappeared from the world like Mama and Papa. They clung to each other because they were all that was left. Because they had nothing else. Their lips did not part for a heartbeat.

Liesel soon felt her face grow damp: whether it was her tears or Rudy's, she was not sure. Not that it mattered. Her eyes were growing heavy with a mix water and salt until it spilled out from under her eyelashes like rain. He pulled away as he wept, almost silently; tears leaked out his clenched shut eyes. She cried with him, her fingers tightly entwined with his. They lay side by side, clutching each other's hands as they let grief pour out of their small, insignificant bodies.

It felt like all that had been forgotten in those few moments of love and bliss - the hurt, the trauma, the dragging seconds of pure devastation that aimed to destroy - came raining down on them like the bombs that created them, wearing and heavy and suffocating like cement. It clung to their lungs and their every limb, and it hurt like hell.

'Goddamnit,' Rudy mumbled thickly, hiccupping a little, 'Sorry Liesel, I've got your face all wet.' He untangled his fingers from hers, and wiped away all residue from her face with his thumb. She smiled a little.

'Danke.' Thank you. Thank you for the kiss. Thank you for living.

They gazed at each other, his hand stroking her muddy hair. She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her palm until they felt raw. Rudy pulled her closer, so that their foreheads rested upon each other. They were silent, for what could really be said at a time like this?

The afternoon sun was retreating, leaving a crisp, buttery yellow sky in its wake.

***One More Unnecessary Fact For The Day***

**There are many notable colours on this odd little planet.**

**This one ranks fourth on my list.**

**Why, you ask?**

**It's just a tad shade lighter than that idiot boy's hair.**

'We should go,' Liesel murmured, pushing herself into a sitting position. Rudy followed, scratching at the dirt now plastered to strands of his lemon hair.

'Yeah, just make sure you aren't caught looking like that by Ros-' Rudy stopped abruptly, and bit his lip.

Liesel's fingernails dug into the ground unconsciously and she clenched her eyes shut. For a moment, she tried to compose herself, mentally building up that wall she had erected in her mind since the death of her brother, the one she hoped that she would be able to take down in time, one she had hoped she would never see again. It controlled the emotions that ran away with her, the ones that needed discipline.

It had been a useful resource as she grew in adolescence, and her feelings for Rudy began to develop. It had eased the anger she felt at Ilsa Hermann for firing her Mama. It was the only thing holding her together when her head felt like it was clumsily stitched up by paper thin reassurance and makeshift comfort. And she hated it. It was her constant reminder of the life she wanted ever so badly to return to, but couldn't quite reach. She wanted it to go away, but she knew she couldn't survive without it.

A warm, rough hand loosened her clenched fist and enclosed it in his own. She looked up to see her other reminder: the only other surviving relic of her past life, aside from the little black book. Like the wall, she couldn't have survived without him. Unlike the wall, she loved him.

He smiled as she squeezed his hand, and he leaned in and gave her a short kiss on the lips. 'Come on, saumensch. You really need a wash.'

'Speak for yourself, saukerl...'

The two youths got to their feet and headed back up the bank of the river, their clasped hands swinging between them, unknowingly leaving their childhoods behind with every step or stumble over stones they took.

***On That Day***

**The Book Thief and Jesse Owens grew up.**

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A/N: Thank you for reading. I'm not great at endings (or beginnings for that matter) so excuse the crappy finish. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway, and reviews are much appreciated. Thanks again. :)

I may continue it, depending on demand, I guess. If you have any ideas (because I sure as hell don't) please feel free to PM me with any feedback and I'll see what I can do.


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